“He’ll be ready to start flying soon,” Tarkosh told me when I returned to the ground, Kyr firmly tucked into my side. “All the hatchlings only stay here for a short time.”
“What happens then?” I asked, knowing she probably meant that as a warning for me. I didn’t want to get attached to the hatchling. Because I knew, like somepyroki, they wouldn’t stay in my care.
“If they have a known lineage, we present them to the mother or father,” Tarkosh told me, taking hold of Kyr’s snout and giving it a small little wiggle, which he huffed at. Her lips quirked. “If not, like Kyr here, then we present them all the same. Another Elthika will usually step in and take them under their care and guidance. They are very protective over young, even if they’re not their own. They have a higher consciousness in that regard, even more than we do.”
I nodded, relieved.
“But don’t feel too sad,” Syris said. “Letting go of a hatchling is a happy thing. And you’ll always see them around the territory. Besides, we’ll have our hands full soon. You might even be relieved once they’re ready to fly.”
My eyes tracked around the incubation room. It was warm in here, a constant heat that made a trickle of sweat run down the back of my neck. Twelve more hatchlings to come. It was only the beginning.
“I think you might be right,” I said.
As if Kyr understood me, he gave a growl of displeasure.
Later that night, I was tucked into my room, sitting by the window, which looked out to the courtyard and the mountain behind the hatchery. I’d been watching the Elthika come and go.There must’ve been a cave entrance where they nested on the western face.
I’d put Kyr back into the nesting room for the night, where he could climb the walls to his heart’s content. Had the evening meal in the kitchens with Syris, Moak making a brief appearance, which had only made my friend blush. And then I’d locked myself in my room for the night.
In my palm, I held a gift my father had given me. A beautiful piece of metalwork, smooth around the edges, with a gleaming red jewel imbedded in the face. The symbol of our family line—Rath Savenal, which had once been the horde of my grandparents—was etched above it, a looping line that resembled an ocean wave.
The dips and edges had developed a patina over time from my touch. It was one of the only things, besides clothing, that I’d stuffed into my travel sack when I’d left home.
My father had spent a lot of time making it. A gift on the eve of my coming of age. And I knew that my parents had saved and scrounged for the gold needed to buy the jewel—a fire gem.
I rubbed my thumb over it. Like it had a light within, it glowed from my touch before fading, responding to heat.
It was one of my most cherished possession…and I felt a desperate ache for home. To walk into the home I’d grown up in, on the top floor that had a beautiful view of Bekkar’s Shield, to smell a stew cooking in the hearth and my mother’s laughter as she hosted whatever friend that night. To hear the sound of my father’s heavy footsteps ascending the rickety staircase after a day in the forges, and to see my mother’s warm gaze land on the door, just as it opened to reveal him. She’d always chide him for being late—though he never was—an old joke between them that Kiron and I had never quite understood, but I always watched the way they looked at each other.
I’d always hoped to find a love like theirs. Warm. Familiar. Rooted.
I wiped away the stray tear that fell down my cheek, the silence of the hatchery filling my room.
Just then, my door opened, and I gasped, turning in the stone window seat with a quickened heartbeat.
And when I saw who filled the doorway, it did nothing to calm my racing heart.
“What are you doing here? Gods, did someone see you come in here?” I asked, rising from my seat with parted lips, already fearing the gossip that would get fed back to Ryak.
“Embarrassed to have aKarathenter your dwelling late at night?” Alaryk asked, raising his brow, his voice nothing more than an annoyed grumble.
“Shut the door,” I hissed, wiping at my cheeks again, just in case there was evidence I’d been crying. My thumb was moving over the fire gem nervously, and I only felt a small relief when the door finally shut.
Alaryk’s booted feet treaded heavy on the stone, making a crisp sound, before it was dulled by the rug. He looked around the small room, his eyes hovering over the empty bed on the other side of the wall, not that there was much to see.
“Do I really need to clarify why I’m here?” he asked, his voice low. “When I left that night, I had meant for you to stay in my dwelling. Not sneak back to the hatchery before I could return.”
My brow furrowed.
“I wasn’t going to stay there,” I said.
“I want you close and safe, where I can?—”
I cut him off, which made his jaw tighten. “Where’s the danger within the borders of your own village,Karath? Am I in danger of a vicious attack from the seamstress? Or maybe one of the acolytes might bludgeon and rob me blind as they’re limping home from training? Is that what you’re afraid of?”
“I’m afraid you might change your mind,” he growled, his blue eyes glowing in the dark, even brighter than my fire gem ever could. “So yes, I’d like to keep you close.”
A thread of realization shot through me. “So you can…twistif necessary.”
